by Jill Michelle
after Alicia Ostriker
To be cursed
complained the dog
is to have your mom
home
all day
but not allowed
to move or play Continue reading
The Curse of the Dog, the Sunflower and the Young Mother
Filed under Poetry
Carrion’s Haunting
by Anne Champion
In East Texas, the vultures’ hunchback stare, starving
and relentless, pierces you like a beak to the gut,
as if they know something you don’t. They circle in flight,
stalk from telephone poles, glare in a way that accuses: Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Beachcombing
by Sam Liming
Done floating, I come in on a wave
and skin my knee.
It’s South Carolina. All the beach
moms are wearing a red lip
and a flounce at the hip. I’m at that age
where I look at seventeen-year-olds Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Verdigris
by Matt Prater
It’s July. You’re alone. Upstairs.
A storm is coming in: green-grey,
but yellow on the wallpaper’s
crest of checkered flowers. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Over Breakfast
by Kevin Grauke
A slightly famous actor, once loved
by our younger selves, has died, I see
on my morning feed. I tell you immediately,
just as you would tell me. The two of us
are eating eggs and toast, drinking coffee,
and scrolling through our phones, looking
to see what happened while we slept,
which, as always, was both nothing and
much too much of everything. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
Hawaii Pacific Review 